The winter wind cut across the campus, sharp and dry, carrying the faint echo of gossip that never truly died down. Sierra walked toward the Journalism Building with her scarf tucked tight around her chin, her fingers curled around a warm paper cup as if the heat alone could keep her steady.
Two days had passed since the failed attempt to expose the fake accounts targeting her. Two days since the new rumors began—uglier, louder, and pointed like knives.
"She bought the reporters."
"She staged everything."
"She's trying to play the victim again."
It didn't matter that none of it was true. It didn't matter that Sierra had quietly kept every file, every screenshot, every timestamp. The truth had weight, but lies moved faster.
Sierra exhaled slowly, pushing open the door of the building. Today she wasn't avoiding anyone. Today she needed answers.
And she was done being quiet.
"You shouldn't be here alone."
Leon stood leaning against the wall outside the student newsroom, arms folded, face unreadable. His grey coat made him look even taller, even more severe.
Sierra stopped. "You're following me again."
"I'm making sure you don't get ambushed again," he replied without apology. "Last time you came here, you walked right into a trap."
She swallowed. "This time, I'm not the one who's cornered."
Leon's brow lifted. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I know who has access to the student newspaper server logs," Sierra said, steadying her voice. "And I know who manipulated them the night those screenshots 'appeared.'"
Leon straightened. "You're sure?"
"No," Sierra answered. "Not yet. That's why I'm here."
His jaw tightened, the muscle pulsing. "…I'll stay outside the door."
"Leon—"
"I'm not leaving," he said simply.
Sierra looked away before he could read too much in her expression. "Fine."
Inside the Newsroom
The newsroom was quieter than usual. Most staff were in afternoon classes, leaving only Jenna Yang tapping furiously at her keyboard, surrounded by piles of sticky notes and a half-finished latte.
She looked up instantly.
"Sierra? Finally!" Jenna rushed over, lowering her voice. "I checked again and you're right. The login that edited those files came from an admin account."
"Whose?"
Jenna hesitated. "It's… complicated."
Sierra froze. "Jenna."
Jenna sighed. "The timestamp belongs to Vivian's team. Or at least, her department… but that doesn't make sense. Vivian Shen wouldn't sabotage you—"
"She already did," Sierra said quietly.
Jenna blinked. "The student election? That was months ago."
"And people don't change that fast."
A tense silence stretched between them.
"Before I accuse her of anything," Sierra continued, "I need proof. Real proof."
Jenna nodded quickly. "Then I'll pull the raw logs. And the backup cache. There's no way anyone scrubbed those."
Sierra forced a smile of gratitude, but her stomach had already tightened.
Vivian.Again.
Why did the people who smiled the widest always know where to stab?
Outside the newsroom
Leon watched through the small glass panel as Sierra spoke with Jenna, her brows tight, hands tense around the edge of the desk. He wished he could go in, close the distance, shield her from everything she was holding together with sheer will.
But he couldn't—not as Leon Lin, and not as the person tied to the scandal that started everything.
When Sierra stepped out, her face was unreadable.
"Well?" Leon asked.
"I know where the logs point." Her voice trembled, then steadied. "But I don't know why."
"Sierra—"
"And I don't want to assume. Not yet." She hugged her laptop to her chest. "But if it is Vivian… if she really went this far—"
Leon stopped her with a hand on her arm.Warm. Firm. Steady.
"Then you won't face her alone."
She looked up, startled. "I don't want to drag you deeper into this."
"You didn't drag me anywhere," Leon said quietly. "I stepped in."
Something flickered in her eyes—fear, gratitude, something she wasn't ready to name. She stepped back, breaking the moment.
"We should go," Sierra murmured.
Later, in the library
Sierra sat with her laptop open, logs spread across the screen. Names. Timestamps. A trail of digital footprints leading back to one person.
Vivian Shen.
But the more she stared at the screen, the more tangled everything felt. Vivian was ambitious, calculating—but would she risk her reputation with something this reckless? Why? What did she gain?
Her phone buzzed.
Vivian Shen:We need to talk.
Sierra's breath hitched.
Another message.
Vivian:Tonight. I'll be waiting.
A chill went down Sierra's spine.
She didn't reply.
But she knew she would go.
Before the silence truly broke, she needed to know whose voice would rise from beneath it.
And whether she could survive the answer.